


Shinobi Academy of Music

by lilac_bramble



Category: Naruto
Genre: AU, M/M, Music, UK - Freeform, conservatoire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2019-01-08 08:30:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12250728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilac_bramble/pseuds/lilac_bramble
Summary: In the Shinobi Academy of Music, the faculty is divided and loyalties are tested as the head of the Keyboard School launches his own agency and record label, New Dawn Artists, creaming off all the most talented students before they even graduate. Caught up in the crossfire are Kakuzu, a Syrian pianist whose studies in his own country were cut short, first by imprisonment and then by war, and Hidan, a young tenor who has already managed to alienate nearly all the teaching staff, and the sole student in the entire Vocal School to be taken on by the prestigious but elusive vocal coach ‘Jashin’.





	Shinobi Academy of Music

**Author's Note:**

> For Kakuzu, there are some wounds that just won't seem to heal. Since arriving in the UK, the emotional damage of the last few years is finally beginning to catch up with him, and he’s struggling to find meaning in his music - or anything. 
> 
> Life at the Academy seems grey and he doesn't seem to be able to satisfy anyone despite his technical brilliance. Until a chance encounter suddenly brings out feelings he'd thought were long buried...

Kakuzu noticed that it was getting dark outside as he let the final notes of Chopin’s _Prelude no. 16_ die away. _This fucking country,_ he caught himself thinking. _Is it ever anything but grey?_  He rested the tips of his fingers on the ivories of Yahiko’s Fazioli grand. Yahiko was the head of the entire keyboard department - taking in the pianists, the early music specialists and their harpsichords, the organ scholars - but piano was his instrument, and he was intensely critical, always. Still, Kakuzu thought his performance had gone alright. He sat back and looked at Yahiko, and - taking in his expression - began to revise that opinion. Yahiko, in turn, sat and brooded silently for a moment.

They were a little over halfway through the Autumn term, and, after weeks of seeming unsatisfied with him Yahiko had caught Kakuzu after Repertoire Class and asked him to come and play for him privately. He’d said it in a low murmur and with a regretful note in his voice so it was clearly not for any happy reason. _And not something that goes on for hours please_ , he’d added waspishly, as they'd headed for his private teaching room. A dig at the Rachmaninov Sonata Kakuzu had played in class, no doubt. So Kakuzu had picked the Chopin, which was short but fiendishly difficult, and he’d executed it flawlessly. Of course, though, that wasn’t everything. He knew he hadn't really put the feeling he'd wanted to into the piece.

And, predictably, that was where Yahiko stuck the knife first. “Kakuzu, let’s be honest - it isn’t happening for you right now, is it?” he said. It clearly wasn't a real question. “You’re struggling to play as if you give a single fuck, in my opinion.” He cleared his throat and wandered over to the window. “Pardon my French,” he added with a kind of mocking bitterness. “But, really now. Yes - you’re technically perfect. _Miles_ ahead of the others in that regard. But it’s got to the point where I don’t even want to listen. You’re playing like a wind-up toy.”

He turned back to face Kakuzu and they stared at each other challengingly. Kakuzu didn’t quite trust himself to speak. To hear flawless technique brushed off as a mere aside was infuriating, of course, but - if he was honest - he knew there was truth in what Yahiko was saying. Ever since he’d left Syria, he’d been missing something. His playing had never been the same, and he didn’t really know where look anymore for a solution. And it was getting worse rather than better. When Yahiko had accepted him into the Academy - and given him a scholarship and a bursary, because he’d arrived here with nothing - there must have still been something in his playing worth listening to, after all.

“Look,” Yahiko said, after a moment, his tone a little warmer. “I’ve got an idea--” He held up a hand as Kakuzu opened his mouth to speak. “Please hear me out, Kakuzu. I think you need to try some collaborative work for a while. I think you need a partner, and I’d like to move you into the accompanists class.”

“No...” Kakuzu felt like the bottom had dropped out of his stomach and his voice was almost pleading. “No, I... Really. _Really_ , I don’t ... play well with others. In any sense. You know that, Yahiko.”

“Give it one more chance, Kakuzu.” Yahiko’s voice was persuasive but it was also quite clearly a command. “Maybe you just haven’t found the right person. It’s a very particular bond - it’s not going to happen with just anyone, is it?”

He gave the idea a moment to sink in, then added, “There’s a kid in the post-grad vocal studies class that I’ve got my eye on. Young tenor. He’s absolutely has it, but he’s struggling in rep class - I think he’s not so hot on the theory side, probably learnt a lot aurally in the past. Anyway, he winged it through his degree on raw vocal talent, but now he’s struggling to learn the repertoire as fast as he needs to. He could really benefit from a once a week slot with a proficient pianist.”

“An oral learner, you say?” Kakuzu allowed himself a brief smile - it manifested as a muscle twitching in one cheek. Yahiko chuckled and lobbed a balled up photocopy at his head.

“Pretty kid too, if that’s to your taste. Anyway. Come down to the Hashirama Auditorium after class tomorrow and I’ll introduce you.”

Kakuzu looked at him unreadably for a moment. He didn’t think it was even worth trying, but if it would get Yahiko off his back... He gave a brief nod. “OK,” he said. “I’ll be there.” He didn’t ask any questions, just gathered up his music and headed for the door. He needed to be alone. Just some time to think, and play, and try to figure out what the fuck was wrong with him.

* * *

 

It was rare indeed that Kakuzu was not organised enough to have booked a practise room, but he’d been running late all day and now he had missed his slot. He felt tired enough - and, if he’d admit it, upset enough from his conversation with Yahiko - that he almost considered just going home, but there was a recital in the Hashirama Auditorium at 7 that he didn’t want to miss. He glanced at his watch - he really didn’t have enough time to make going home worthwhile. So instead, he headed back to the hall and climbed the clanging metal staircase towards the upper floor, where there were sometimes a few rooms with poorer acoustics and lower quality pianos available at this time of day.

But as he opened the heavy fire door that led onto the long, bare brick corridor he saw that he was just too late here as well. The last two rooms were just being taken - by a couple of singers, he assumed, since they weren’t carrying instruments and they certainly weren’t pianists. They were fighting over the room with a CD player, for Christ’s sake.

“I booked it, Hidan,” a slight young man with a spiky ponytail was saying wearily, tapping a finger on a chart pinned on the noticeboard. “You don’t have a claim.”

“Fuck you, Shikamaru,” the one called Hidan said. Kakuzu recognised him. With his slicked back silver hair, he was extremely distinctive; he’d drawn Kakuzu’s eye in the cafeteria on more than one occasion. But they’d never spoken. Now he was backing into the other room to stake his claim on it, but clearly not done with the discussion. “You just fucking wrote that in there now!” he said, pointing at the chart, his tone deeply accusatory. “Fucking _admit_ it, you prick!”

Shikamaru ignored him, firmly shutting his door. “Dickhead,” Hidan muttered. One hand still on the doorframe, he swung himself around into the room and Kakuzu heard the soft clatter of the piano lid being opened. In another moment, with a muffled click, his door had closed too.

* * *

 

Kakuzu sighed. He walked all the way down the corridor, just to make sure, but all the rooms were indeed occupied. All he could do was wait around on the off-chance that someone would finish early, and he wandered back to the middle of the corridor and sat down, back against the wall, to wait.

The doors up here weren’t quite as thick as downstairs, either. He could hear faint musical sounds from the four rooms he was nearest to, and as he sat and waited one set of sounds began to stand out from the others. He started to focus on it, and after a minute or two he even moved a little closer to the door they seemed to be emanating from. Hidan’s door, he was pretty certain. He had a very mellow voice - a baritone maybe, but with a tenor-like timbre. He was clearly doing a thorough warm-up - probably not going to finish early, then - and he’d progressed from some basic vocalisations to a piece that Kakuzu vaguely recognised as one of the exercises from Vaccaj’s _Metodo Practico di Canto_. He smiled - he hadn’t expected to hear that here. It started well enough, but after the first two bars the accompaniment got a bit more complex and even though he’d dropped the right hand entirely now and was just plonking out a few notes in the bass, they were mostly wrong and clearly putting him off.

“Fuck!” he heard - soft through the closed door - he suspected it was far less dulcet inside the room. “ _Fucking_ hell!” A crash of piano keys, then he started again, unaccompanied.

It really was a beautiful voice. Kakuzu got up and leaned against the door. Leaned his head against it and closed his eyes for a moment. The music stopped. He was checking his note against the piano - got it wrong first time. But Kakuzu was impressed to hear that he was perfectly in tune. Now he was trying the accompaniment again, and Kakuzu shook his head. _Bad idea Hidan. You’re a shit pianist - no two ways about it._ He put his hand on the door knob. Hesitated. But a particularly clashing chord stiffened his resolve. Slowly, quietly, he turned it.

Hidan didn’t notice him immediately. He had one knee on the piano stool, clearly trying to stay as upright as he could while still reaching the keyboard. Kakuzu watched him frowning in frustration as he squinted at the music and a little smile twitched the corner of his mouth.

It certainly wasn’t the sort of thing he made a habit of. He wasn’t even quite sure why he was doing this, except that almost anything was better than staking out a practice room for half an hour for a 10 minute practice. He stepped forward just as Hidan’s eyes flicked up from the music.

He was clearly bracing himself for another argument - he probably thought Kakuzu had come to try and claim the room and judging by the hunted look in his eyes he made a habit of winging it unscheduled. Kakuzu held up a placating hand, palm towards him, then gestured at the piano stool. “Maybe I can help you out,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “I’m ... one of the pianists...”

Hidan gaped at him.“You - you serious man?” he said.

Kakuzu nodded. “There are no rooms,” he explained, shrugging a shoulder.

Hidan stared at him a moment longer, then sprang back from the piano, suddenly energised.“Fucking-- be my guest!” He grinned incredulously and gestured at his music. “Number 9, if you would be so kind!”

“I know,” Kakuzu said, sitting down and glancing briefly through it, then up at Hidan. “I could hear. It was getting a ... little painful out there, I have to say!”

Hidan just gave a good-natured roll of the eyes. “Ah, come on,” he said. “ _You_ wanna sing it?”

Kakuzu acknowledged the point with a slight incline of his head, and began to play. He could almost feel Hidan relax behind him, and as he came in with the vocal line the difference in his sound quality - now that he wasn’t messing around sight-reading an accompaniment - was incredible. _‘Introduction to the Mordent’_ , this exercise was called - _‘La Gioia Verace’_ \- it was like a little aria in itself. Kakuzu smiled. It felt nice. Surprisingly nice. Maybe Yahiko had a point after all.

And Hidan really _did_ have an insanely beautiful voice. And powerful. Kakuzu couldn’t help himself from stealing a glance or two at him. He wondered briefly whether this was the student Yahiko had been talking about, but it seemed unlikely that he’d struggle with anything. Also - pretty kid? The description didn’t really fit. Hidan was certainly extremely good-looking, but also very masculine... _Don’t go down that path,_ he told himself, though. _You may be in a liberal country now, but that’s no reason to go looking for trouble._

* * *

 

As they finished the exercise they both heard the muffled sound of the door of one of the other practise rooms opening and closing, and someone walking off down the corridor, but they both pretended that they hadn’t.

“So, what are you warming up for? I assume Vaccaj isn’t your end game here...” Kakuzu said loudly, to mask the slam of the fire door at the end of the corridor. “Something with a lot of... uh... _mordents_ in it?”

Hidan laughed. “Not exactly... nah, it’s just fucking ‘Ev’ry Valley’ from the _Messiah_ \- I just wanted to get my voice moving with the Vaccaj, you know what I mean? It’s a nice little exercise for that.”

“Of course.” That incline of the head again.

“My teacher wants to shoehorn me into a fuck-ton of _Messiahs_ this Christmas, so... Anyway, he wants to hear this tomorrow and I just realised I hadn’t actually sung it before so...”

Kakuzu looked at him sharply. “But you know it, right?”

“Oh sure. You can’t get away from a piece like that. I must have heard it hundreds of times. I just ...”

“Haven’t sung it,” Kakuzu finished for him wryly. “Well well. You certainly like to fly by the seat of your pants, don’t you? Shall we have a go?”

“You’re the best, man,” Hidan said artlessly. “I’d seriously be fucked without you. My teacher is not the type to fuck around with, believe me.” He dropped a battered old _Messiah_ onto the music stand on top of the _Vaccaj_ and leant over Kakuzu to flick through the pages. “I mean, I’ve note-bashed it. And I’ve done it to some weird-ass noises - don’t laugh, it’s a technique - but I still haven’t run the whole thing.”

“I’m not laughing,” Kakuzu reassured him, in his best deadpan voice. “I don’t tend to very often, as a general rule.”

But despite his efforts to seem cool and collected, he _was_ distracted. Hidan was so close, and even more attractive close up than he had been when admired from a distance. He took a deep breath in an effort to keep his composure - and that was a mistake, because something Hidan used in his hair smelled very nice indeed. Sweet and fresh, like... watermelon, perhaps..? He swallowed.

Luckily, Hidan didn’t seem to have noticed his discomfort. And having found the right page, he straightened up and held what looked like a rosary against his mouth - then closed his eyes in obvious prayer. _He’s religious?_ Kakuzu was taken aback. He just didn’t seem the type. And a rosary? Was he _Catholic_? Even more important to keep a tight lid on his thoughts, then. But he couldn’t deny that he was more than a little disconcerted.

He dealt with it by pretending that he hadn’t noticed. He started playing the introduction and instructed himself sternly to not even so much as glance around. He focused on playing nice and lightly - this was meant to be a bunch of violins, he recalled - and it was actually quite fun to try and make it sound like that. And when Hidan made his entrance he had to admit, if that was the kind of feeling a moment of prayer could bring out of you, well, maybe he should try it himself...

* * *

 

At 6.57 - as he charged down the staircase three at a time - Kakuzu couldn’t quite figure out how they’d managed to use up the rest of the hour. Sure, they’d gone over a few sections a couple of times, and Hidan had broken out the ‘weird-ass noises’ to troubleshoot a few passages, and then they’d decided to run it together with ‘Comfort Ye’, since the two ran on from each other, and Hidan had been reminiscing about how that was the first aria from _Messiah_ he’d done. That had led to him telling Kakuzu lots of scandalous stories about his misspent youth as a chorister, and he’d just been touching on the subject of his mysterious vocal coach - called Jashin - when Kakuzu had heard the seven o’clock crowd starting to mill about outside, waiting for room changeover time - and he’d suddenly remembered that he was supposed to be at the Kakashi Hatake recital in the Hashirama Auditorium.

“Oh God!” He’d leapt up. “I have to go!”

Hidan had stopped mid sentence, mouth open. “Oh!” he said, and sounded so disappointed that Kakuzu almost asked him if he wanted to join him. But only almost.

“Recital,” he’d explained, then grabbed his music from the top of the piano and legged it.

He made the Auditorium with a thirty seconds to spare - the house lights were already starting to dim - and as he relaxed into a red velvet seat and tried to arrange his legs in a way that wouldn’t give him cramp, he wondered why he _hadn’t_ asked Hidan to join him. The religious thing, he supposed. Sitting next to a nice Catholic boy in the semi-darkness - where was the fun in that? It wouldn’t do to let himself get interested in him - it was clearly no go.


End file.
